


Devil Devil

by scribensdracones



Category: Noblesse (Manhwa)
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Guilt, Hidden Agenda, Jealousy, M/M, Mutual Manipulation, On Hiatus, Possessive Behavior, Unhealthy Relationships, Unrequited Love, Wishful Thinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2019-05-15 03:29:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14782809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scribensdracones/pseuds/scribensdracones
Summary: In an alternate universe in which Raskreia pursued Ignes as she tried to escape the battlefield, a wicked deal is struck between these two - Raskreia is not oblivious to the attraction Ignes feels towards her and will not shy away from pulling the strings of a traitor.Frankenstein, ever so loyal towards his master, starts to realize: a greedy, wicked part of him might want so much more than he should dare to ask for.





	1. Like a beaten dog

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to summarize this chapter as "Ignes is too gay to function" tbqh

Her heart raced in her chest as she stumbled through the woods, driven forwards by this primordial fear for her dear life. Who could tell for how much longer Titan would last? If she was lucky, the other werewolves would join in soon, maybe even the Lord himself. About time for him to play his cards, after all. All Ignes knew was that she had played hers too soon. Damn that Frankenstein! Curse him a thousand times and more! If only – was it really tampered research she has been working with all these years? A built-in weakness to his own weapon? It must be. Her arm should have grown back now! With heaving chest, Ignes stumbled forward a couple of more steps before coming to a halt. Her remaining hand reached out for the nearest tree in search of support.

“You cannot run forever, Ignes Jelena Kravei.” A voice so familiar, a torturingly sweet song in her ears even after all these years. Slowly, Ignes turned away as if she meant to savour this dreadful anticipation. To see her again, not just fleetingly as she stepped on the battlefield akin to a goddess made flesh, but in full, with nothing but the moon to witness them.  
“From you? I would never run from you.” Ignes laughed, a bitter, dry sound half stuck in her throat. Everything was over, wasn't it? For the Lord, she had nothing. For this Frankenstein, this miserable devil, she had her precious knowledge, for the Noblesse the tears of a lost girl alone in a world so cold, so repentant, looking for redemption. Show me the way, Cadis Etrama Di Raizel, Frankenstein, let me show you what I know, turn your back on me once and I will hold my dagger ready.  
“Tell me why I should not end you where you stand.” The Lord's eyes were narrowed, gleaming red in the pale silver gleam of the moon above them. Ignes swallowed and took a step back, head lowered slightly. A power to rival Lords? Right. That she might have told herself when fighting that werewolf bitch, yet before _her_ , could she truly be so arrogant?

No. No. Don't give up yet. Everything was at stake. Raskreia, the weakest of all Lords, surrounded by weak clan leaders, a scientist half consumed with madness and a dying noblesse. This was all that was left of the nobles and their allies.  
“I am still a Clan Leader. I am stronger than any of the current clan leaders. You know it. Kill me. Kill me if you want. Then I won't stand in your way. But neither will I stand in the way of your enemies.”  
Raskreia furrowed her eyebrows. Yet she was still _listening_. Indeed, though she hated to admit it – Ignes was strong. Despite all of her crimes, despite everything she did, she was still among the oldest remaining clan leaders... a wolf backed up into a corner, ready to bite at anything that came too close. You have nothing left to lose, you wretched thing. Slowly, Ragnarok dissolved from her hand as she took a step towards Ignes, chin raised high. Like a beaten dog, Ignes lowered her head, muscles tensing as though she meant to back off. Good.  
  
“You hardly deserve a quick death,” Raskreia finally said. Did she enjoy this? Yes, too much. Once, Ignes might have been a friend, dolls and tea, dresses and giggles, more than a thousand years ago. The Noblesse and Frankenstein had eliminated the traitors, but this one was hers. No betrayal had cut deeper, more personal, than the girl she once called a friend. To see her like this filled Raskreia with a sickening mixture of satisfaction and pity. “... let alone my trust.”  
“I have nowhere to run.” Once again, Ignes laughed and this time, Raskreia was convinced that her impression was right: a beaten dog backed into a corner. “The Union is falling apart and the werewolves? When you all are done with them, there will be nothing left of them. I have no allies. Nowhere to go. How much harm can I, alone, do against all of you?”  
Ignes raised her remaining hand as though that gesture might appease her. Without the resources of the union and the werewolves, without their influence, their labs, their test subjects, without them, Ignes was nothing but a miserable little wretch. Too afraid to die, with nothing to live for, with no one to mourn her.

“Let me go,” Ignes said softly, her remaining arm still raised slightly. Her arm had started regenerating by now. Would she attack? Would she try to win time to find a better moment to stab her in the back? Of course. Of course, that's what she would do. Raskreia eyed her up and down, she could almost feel Ignes squirming under her stern, unforgivingly steely gaze. Squirm all you want, you cannot hide from me. “And in return? What will you give me in return?” Raskreia stepped closer – faster than Ignes could recoil. Her fingers closed around the younger noble's throat into a firm chokehold.

Why did she feel so excited? Why did everything inside of her tingle as though a thousand butterflies exploded in her guts? Ignes reached out for the hand that had her in its grasp, did not try to resist. Her fingers closed around Raskreia's wrist without much force – she would not struggle, enamored with this feeling she could not put into words at this moment. She could lose herself forever in these eyes, in this cold sea of crimson.

 “Everything,” she whispered, a hoarse croak pressing against Raskreia's fingers. She should not enjoy this, should not enjoy this power she wielded. Yet she did. Slowly, her grip relaxed.  
“Call me, call me, wherever I am, wherever you are, whenever, whatever, I will be yours.... Leviathan will be yours. My power will be yours.”  
Raskreia eyed her for another couple of minutes. No one would ever have to know. Each minute wasted here with Ignes would put her people at unnecessary risk. She was their Lord, her duty was to protect them – not to lie to them, and yet, it would be so easy. Too easy, too tempting, to just give in to this wicked suggestion. Finally, she let go of her entirely and Ignes' arm dropped back. Her other arm had regenated and Raskreia was half-surprised to see that she made no move to summon her soul weapon.

“I will. If you dare to betray me.. if you dare not to heed my call – you will learn that death is the most merciful fate that you could meet.”  
A weak smile briefly illuminated Ignes' weary features. It seemed too genuine, too out of place. “I wouldn't have it any other way.” Just as she meant to disappear into the dark of the forest, she stopped again, turning around. 

“Oh... there is one more thing. The werewolf lord, Maduke... take him down first. Don't waste time and energy on his underlings.”

 

 


	2. With hidden cards

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick short thank you for everyone who commented or gave me some other kind of feedback! I am honestly excited to be writing this so, I will keep this at a short thank you, hope you have fun :)

Frankenstein couldn't exactly say that he enjoyed battles – just as he loved the rush of the moment, the sweet thrill of danger, the tingle of violence .... he loathed the aftermath. With the adrenaline gone from his veins, little but quiet disenchantment was left. Not that he _cared_ for the enemies he put down. Not that he felt much _regret_. Lately, he lost his taste for it almost entirely – each battle was a risk to Master, after all. A reason to get involved, more life force drawn from him. As if he had not given enough already! As if he had not bled enough already! This world should go to hell for all the woes it threw at his master, the one who had done no wrong but integrity.  
For a few moment, he observed him, watching him near Muzaka and Lunark. The werewolves would be busy for a while and if he was not mistaken, there shouldn't be much left of the Union at this point. With some luck, Master would have time to rest at least a bit, though he feared that a couple of quiet days or weeks would not be enough to help him at this point.

Frankenstein's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of steps approaching him. Any other human would probably not have picked up on it at all, though here, Frankenstein was almost always on edge, anticipating sudden events that needed to be dealt with fast. Slowly, he turned his gaze towards the Lord who approached him from the side with slow steps. Regal, Frankenstein thought for a moment. Still, it struck him once more how little she resembled her father. Whereas the previous Lord has been a waterfall made of gold and fiery sparks, his daughter and crown princess was a statue of steel and marble. Like an iceberg, he thought.

“Are you and the Noblesse returning to Korea?”, she asked calmly, hands folded in front of her.  
“Yes,” he confirmed with a little nod. “... what happened to Ignes?” He had not sensed any battles erupting in the direction the traitor tried to escape to - even a swift execution should have caused at least _some_ sort of spike in energy -   
“She has been dealt with.”  
Her steely gaze met his and for a moment, Frankenstein was tempted to inquire about details – after half a thought, he decided that he did not care enough about the traitor's fate to question the Lord's ability to take care of a problem. One less thing he needed to worry about, then. 

* * *

 Even though, from a reasonable point of view, her feelings were misplaced, Raskreia still felt a certain sense of _guilt_ – hidden dealings struck behind the back of her allies, threats left roaming free for selfish whims – too many things about the encounter with Ignes left a sour taste after the initial sweetness of whatever sick satisfaction she may have found on that moonlit clearing. A Lord must stand above it all, above pettiness and sadism, above cruelty and hidden motives. A leader who set a good example for the nobles. That night, she had lowered herself into the murky waters of secrets and selfish notions she should have purged from herself long ago already.  
Wasn't she meant to be _better_ than that? Even though Raskreia meant to tell herself that it was all for a good reason, in the calm of the castle, another reason seemed more striking. In that moment, it felt as though she, Raskreia, was no longer the Lord, and as though the Lord was no longer Raskreia, as if two people had to share her body. Was this really who she was? The cruel pleasure in seeing a traitor bow her head like that? The petty need to pour salt into the wound and still feel as though it did not hurt the other enough?  Could there truly be such a despicable part inside of her, thriving in the darkness and bitterness of the past centuries and the struggles they had forced upon her? 

Raskreia discarded the thought once more. Ignes was among the most powerful clan leaders still alive. They both were right, Ignes had voiced a truth that was evident to anyone: the Nobles needed more allies, for the Union still remained a looming threat. At the moment, nothing indicated that quieter, peaceful times waited ahead. Behind each twist and turn, a new enemy lurked. They already lost Rajak and too many of the Central Knights.  
If her enemies played with hidden cards, then maybe it was time for her to do the same. 

* * *

A layer of dust had started to settle on the floor, the cabinets and other surfaces. Precious equipment has been removed from the lab, most documents were gone. Whatever was of use has been salvaged already. Still, she was still familiar with this place from her regular visits to the 9th Elder's base. Sometimes in the company of her father, sometimes on her own. He has been no friend of hers, but still, someone she had known well. Though the Lord's word could be trusted... Ignes did not inted to sit still, twiddling her thumbs, until the Lord changed her mind. She couldn't (wouldn't) keep a low profile forever, hoping for something or someone else to do in her enemies at last.

After a few minutes, the systems were started again, connection establishing. The screen of the second Elder remained darkened out. Did they see her, from here? Did they know who she was? Probably not.

“I am Ignes Kravei, the daughter of the fourth elder and apprentice of the 9th Elder,” she started before one of them got to inquire about her identity first.  
“We know who you are,” the blacked-out silhouette in place of the Third Elder said.  
“I ask for permission to continue 9th Elder-nims research to the best of my abilities and take this base back into operation,” she continued. Father had hidden her well, something she had begrudged him for until now. Now she began to understand the favour he'd done her. Neither could she afford to draw any attention to herself through extraordinary work, nor could she afford to disappoint the Union. Let them think lowly of her. Let them underestimate her.  
"The 13rth Elder and his subordinate teams have been tasked with the continuation of the research already," the 3rd Elder replied in a calm, matter-of-fact voice. Ignes briefly tried to imagine what he might look like.  
“You are welcome to join the ranks of my team, Ignes,” the 13th Elder offered amiably. She remembered their encounter and did not quite understand the shiver that ran down her back.  
“Before any decision will be made-” The first Elder raised his voice for the first time and Ignes tensed. “- you never officially joined the union. Stay where you are, we will consult about this situation and inform you in a couple of days.”  
She swallowed, not quite sure whether she liked the sound of it or not. Still, she gave a nod. Wait. Did they even see her? Was she just a blacked-out shape to them too?  
“Yes, First Elder-nim,” she said politely. “And thank you for your generous offer, 13th Elder-nim,” she added after a brief moment.

The transmission ended on the 1st Elder's part, followed by the screen of the 3rd Elder going black entirely. After a moment, the last active screen, that of Dr. Crombel, blacked out as well. Slowly, Ignes exhaled. This was no good, but better than an immediate rejection. Strange. With the way everything crumbled apart.... one would think that they would have a greater interest in gaining new, powerful Elders... No. No, that would be no good. The Union was too far gone to save her. At the moment, her feeble agreement with the Lord was her best and only chance.

 


	3. And in the end we're all alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge, big thank you to everyone who read and commented on this x3 You really are amazing!

The estate has been abandoned long since, those who refused to follow the lead of Roctis Kravei found refuge within the other clans. Maybe Raskreia was to step foot into the manor for centuries – the thick layers of dust on the floor and the furniture hinted at that. With slow steps, she made her way through a building she once has been familiar with. Usually, it was the three of them. Claudia, Ignes and herself. Sometimes other girls their age would join them, too. When did they fall apart like that? Maybe she should have noticed the way Ignes had withdrawn from them. The way their sparring sessions got more and more intense. The way Ignes sought their company less and less. Back then, she'd paid it no mind: she, too, had little time, focused on her responsibilities and duties. She was to become the Lord, after all. Claudia and Ignes would have... should have.. become Clan Leaders. For a brief moment, Raskreia found herself missing these days. Easier days, yes. No way back now. Father had gone into eternal sleep, the world was on fire, Claudia needed to regain the trust of her people and Ignes had turned into a monster. None of them could ever go back.

 Eventually, she reached the room she has been looking for, her memory of this place flimsy. Ignes always has been so secretive about her room, so reluctant to let anyone enter. In a way, it felt pleasant to be here without the other woman's consent. Nothing had changed. The walls were painted in a matted turkish blue, bordering into aquamarine tints. Raskreia stopped before one of the walls. She remembered having tea with Claudia while Ignes painted that wall. Softly crashing waves, a deep blue sea with sparks of turquoise and emerald, white crowns of foam, a pastel sky in softest rose and gold notes. _You should have stayed here and painted all the walls of Lukedonia instead of committing your atrocities_ , she thought.

Focus. She was not here to get sentimental over times and people she could never get back. Though blood served her purpose best, there might be another way. Frankenstein had mentioned it at some point, during one of the extremely rare conversations they had. Everything a person is... written in these so-called genes. A single hair contained everything. That would be disillusioning, if a single ripped-out hair could substitute blood. With some luck, it would work anyway and she would not have to resort to more unconventional methods. She was the Lord. She did not seek out her nobles but summoned them.  
Raskreia found the actual purpose of her visit on the vanity table Ignes had abandoned centuries ago. While she had taken most of her personal belongings, some were still left here. A comb carved out of a whale's bone, adorned with shells and pearls. Yes. A couple of ebony hairs were stuck between the teeth and the fine shells. One would suffice.

  A couple of days later, she found her opportunity. Leaving behind the main island of Lukedonia, she sought out one of the old, abandoned outposts of the central knights situated on one of the islands by the limits of their territory. Raskreia did not particularly care to expose herself to unnecessary risks (besides, she could not bring herself to leave Lukedonia and her people without a good reason). This would do, remote enough to give them the privacy needed. She'd kept the hair in an empty silver locket which she'd stored in a pocket. The moment of truth... Not that she put much hope into this unconventional approach. With the blood of a noble, she could summon them easily, call out to them directly. An invasive approach, but good enough for the likes of Ignes. 

Carefully, she placed the hair in her open palm, trying to feel anything in it. Distinct traces of a noble's essence, yes, though she could hardly feel Ignes' aura in it anymore. No surprise, it's been centuries... Still, she focused on that one hair in her palm that started smoldering, a comforting heat on her skin. _Ignes Jelena Kravei, I, your Lord, call you to me_.

* * *

 “Master. You should rest.” Not that this request would lead anywhere. At this point, he felt he should say that for the sake of doing so. Remind him that his body was failing. If he kept going like that... Raizel shook his head gently, as was to be expected.  
“Frankenstein. I am happy here.”  
Of course he was. The modified humans.. the human children... Frankenstein swallowed all of his remarks. Though he might love them too, in a way, it all faded in comparison to the love he felt for his master. In a flight of irrational anger, he grit his teeth, straightening his back again. Though his demeanor remained calm and collected, he was seething inside. Almost a thousand years of agonizing separation. Almost a thousand years of harrowing loneliness. He knew that time meant something else to nobles, knew that neither Raizel, nor the humans, nor any of their friends, meant to cause any harm, and yet he felt awfully wronged. In this moment, he felt as though he was being robbed of precious time with Raizel. If things continued like this... he would lose him again, for good this time. Gone forever. A thought that filled him with a dread he could not describe. No, he did not want to describe it. Such despair made the Dark Spear stir inside of him, his only companion, a lover in battle, a curse at other times. If he lost Raizel... he would be left with nothing but this darkness inside of him.

_Don't you think of me too? I can protect these children. I can protect the people we call friends. And when you wake up, I will still be there for you. Am I not enough for you? You will always be enough for me._

Frankenstein knew that this was not only a lost cause, but unfair, too. To question Raizel like that... It made him no better than the traitors. Raizel cared, in his own way, and he cared too much for too many people all at once. Would he sacrifice it all to save Raizel? Would he see everyone and everything consumed by fire if it meant he could save his master from the inevitable?  
After a moment of thought, he realized: if he had to give his own life to save Raizel and their friends... he would. Oh, he would.

Raizel would only do the same, so he wouldn't have to.

* * *

 Some old sketches, doodles and paintings were left on the walls. The first thing Ignes did was tearing them off. Right now, she could not bear to see anything that related to the old life she had lost. Let these walls be white and bleak, as empty as her own insides. Angrily, she crumpled them up and tossed them in the bin by the desk. The drawings were followed by the clothes in the wardrobe. She didn't want those anymore either.

She emptied out the drawers of her desk and bedside table out on the floor, pulled old boxes from under the bed she'd never slept in. First, this room, then everything else. Almost everything else. Mindlessly, Ignes tossed almost everything into the bin without much thought. A second pile started forming next to the overflowing container.  
Next... the boxes. Oh. She remembered, a gift from the 9  th  Elder. A polaroid camera, decades old, but state of the art back then. How excited she has been, taking pictures of almost everything! In a flight of sentimentality, she reached out for one of the stack of pictures. Flowers. Experiments. Windows. Test subjects. A cat. Oh. Something inside of her felt as if it just _broke_ . A neat crack splitting her open with ease. 9  th  Elder must have taken this picture. She looked so small next to her father. They were laughing about something, but for the love of everything holy, she could not remember what about. Distressed, she cast it away and shut the box, let it disappear under the bed again.

 No going back now. Whatever she has lost, she would get none of it back. Moved by something between anger and sorrow, she got up from her kneeling position and grabbed the bin, pushed everything down with force to make space for the other things she meant to throw away. Let all of this burn in the ovens they used to dispose of failed experiments. Ignes knew she should burn the photographs too but didn't find the strength to do so, didn't fight the strength to let go and move on. The mere thought of destroying these pictures felt like outrageous, blatant betrayal.

She visited several other rooms until she could not carry more things to rid herself of. Down in the laboratory, she fired up the oven and emptied out the bins into the opening. The air was heavy with the scent of burning fabric, plastic and other materials that were probably never meant to be burned. Didn't matter, knowing it was all on fire brought her some of the comfort she craved so much. 

Unfortunately, she did not get to enjoy her little funeral pyre for the past. It was a call she had never heard before, a voice so distant and yet so clear, clawing at her very core.  _I, your Lord, call you to me_ . The sensation was so distressing, so unpleasant, that she clutched her chest, staggering back. The Lord was calling her. No.  _Raskreia_ was calling her. A call she should not dare disobey. With a notion of regret, she turned around to leave. The fire would extinguish on its own, probably. Or maybe the whole laboratory would catch fire. Maybe the entire base would be consumed by fire by the time she got back from her little rendez-vous. That was fine.   
Maybe she would not return at all. That was fine as well.  

 

 

 

 

 


	4. To understand someone

She remembered giggles, inane, useless. It wasn't that it wasn't obvious, the way he blushed when he saw her passing by. _Is there something you're not telling us, Ignes?_ That was when Claudia still knew how to laugh. It felt like a thousand years ago, just teasing Ignes like that for the knight whose cheeks reddened each time he saw her. _Alright, I kissed him, but it was gross and he can go and be stupid somewhere else._  
In retrospective, Raskreia couldn't remember why she and Claudia had burst out into laughter. _Hey Claudia... Raskreia.. have you ever kissed someone?_ She should not feel such disgust and guilt at this innocent memory. It was innocent, all of it was innocent. Daughter of the Lord she may be, but wasn't she allowed her own curiosities and youthful sins too?  
She remembered the scarlet burn on Ignes' cheeks when she kissed first Claudia (was she giggling? She couldn't remember), then her. To this day, she was not sure whether she had liked it or not. A sloppy, awkward kiss, but it was alright. They didn't know better.  
Claudia was less eager, more reticent. Why did she remember this now, out of all times? This waiting was unbecoming for her, it allowed her mind to roam where it was not meant to be. Her senses were on high alert, trying to notice any shift in the atmosphere, any slight trace of a scent, a sound – anything that would alert her of the other noble's arrival.

 “You took your time coming here.”  
“It's not like you were waiting for me next door. This is close to Lukedonia.”  
“Would you prefer to meet in a base of the Union? The werewolf castle, mabye?”  
She was not sure why, but Raskreia's dry sarcasm made her smile. That rare, dead-pan wit was a blade she rarely wielded, despite her skill with it. _It was unlordly,_ she'd once said. Ignes liked Raskreia being unlordly, then. Softly, Ignes shook her head, short black hair swaying with the motion. “This is he closest I've been to home in...”  
“Don't call it home. You know it's not.”  
Ignes lowered her gaze. Right. Though Raskreia had spared her life... though she had let her get away... nothing was forgiven. Absolution was an extravagant luxury she would not be granted here. Maybe this is what she deserves. Raskreia's steely gaze, the chill of the late evening, the hollowness inside of her chest. It was all right. In this wicked estrangement from the woman she'd adored so much, once upon another time, she found a perfect serenity.

“I won't ask you why you did the things you did,” Raskreia finally started after minutes of comfortable silence had passed. They had nothing to say to each other, after all. “I don't want to hear your excuses, your apologies, your anything, if you know such a thing as regret. Do you?”  
“Do I what?”  
“Regret. Do you regret anything?”  
“Maybe. Prying for my most intimate feelings right away? You really waste no time.” Despite the seriousness she should retain in this situation, she could not keep herself from chuckling, one hand rising to cover her mouth. Too late, anyway, and let Raskreia damn her for joking. Gallow's humor was always her favourite kind. 

  Slowly, Raskreia raised an eyebrow, arms crossed lightly in front of her chest. She remained sat on the half-crumbled stone wall. Without the noble presence to maintain their outposts, even their own buildings fell prey to the passage of time.

“You let me go. I am not complaining... just wondering.”  
“Don't think, even for a single moment, I did it for sentimental reasons. I did not.”  
“So our friendship...”  
“... ended the day you and Roctis Kravei left Lukedonia.”  
“Well. Thanks for the honesty, I guess. So... _Lord_... here I am. Did you whistle me here for a particular reason?”

“I wondered whether you would actually come.”  
“Well. Here I am. Hey... so... Maybe there should be no secrets on my side... I reclaimed an old union base, for the time being. I don't fancy rolling in fields of wheat under the open stars.”  
“For someone who runs for her life quite frequently recently, you sure do seem to have a distinct death wish.”  
“It's not like I can go back to the werewolves... or Lukedonia... Besides, the Union is a sinking ship. They are of no use to me, and at this point, my presence doesn't change things either. They are going down. When you guys are done with it, guess I will find myself a new place to stay.”

* * *

“Your mind feels like a stormy night,” Raizel pointed out. His voice held the usual softness reserved for such quiet moments of peace. They were so rare, so precious, he cherished each of them more than maybe even Raizel imagined. Did he know? Frankenstein never doubted that Raizel _cared_. Yet sometimes... Sometimes he wondered if Raizel knew just how much he meant to him. There were two universes, the one out there, and his own. With no doubt, Raizel stood at the heart of his.

“I am _worried_ about you.” His words sounded harder than they needed to be, teeth grit slightly. Worried because he got involved in everything, worried because this time, he might lose him for good – no, he would not survive this separation again. To wait half an eternity, that he could bear. But to know it was over for good? That he would not bear. This world would not survive his rage, nothing but cinders and ashes would be left in the wake of his mad grief if anything ever happened to Raizel.

He would not mourn quietly, would not grieve in silence. His sorrow would be a scorching flame that knew no mercy, no moderation, no stop until he'd burnt down first this world and then himself.

“You're doing it again.” Raizel's gentle voice ripped him from the quiet sea of anger that reached out for his soul with greedy, cold hands. Frankenstein swallowed. _It's nothing, Master_ – Raizel's facial expression molt into a deep sadness that made his heart ache. He never wanted to see him like that.  
“I am sorry for what the things I must do... do to you.”

Not fighting was not an option, not for Raizel. He could not let the Union slaughter humans, could not let them wage war against Lukedonia, could not let anyone get away with harming those he cared about. He could not walk away from a single fight – and Frankenstein understood him. Neither could he. Sooner or later, there would be nowhere else to turn away to. Enemies would be all around them, hands soaked in the blood of the friends they would have abandoned.

Maybe that was the worst of it all. Their dilemma was inevitable, as if all the stars above were against them being together.

“Eight hundred years are nothing to you, Master. I would not bear to lose you again. A thousand years I can wait, ten thousand, a hundred times, until the last star in this galaxy dies. As long as I know that you will return. But if you died -”  
“I will die. As all must. And when the time is right...”  
“ **I don't want to hear it!** ” It was not _like_ him to snap like that. Yet right now, he could not bear it, could not bear to hear him talk like that. Raizel fell silent and merely nodded gently, as though he understood. Yet he could not possibly understand. He was still a noble at heart, incapable of understanding. Refused to understand.

To long for understanding.... was so very human. 

* * *

  To have to call her with this single hair... though it _worked_ , it was hardly lordly. Raskreia wanted to feel like her call was rooted deeper into blood, source of ancient, arcane power, than the mere genetics of it. Gracefully, she lifted one arm and raised her hand. Though she could not recall a time she had needed to use this power, now was as good as a moment as any. Reaching deep into her inner self, tapping into the dormant power that waited to be called forward, she forced it to materialize itself in her palm. A small vial of dull, milky glass manifested in her hand.

“I do not want to have to call you through a _hair_ again.”  
Ignes, perched on the remains of an old wall, gave an understanding nod. At least she was not being deliberately difficult, even though something about her irked Raskreia anyway. She was too... relaxed? Cornered dogs were the worst – with nothing left to lose, what did anything matter, really? Without having received the order to do so, Ignes approached. With one sharp fingernail, the younger noble left a deep cut on her wrist, red blood pearled at the precise incision. With her other hand, she took the vial from Raskreia and pressed its opening against the beginning of the wound, applied gentle pressure. This was not the first time she was taking her own blood, probably, even though Raskreia presumed she used actual equipment instead of rudimentary self-injury.  
Keeping the wound open and bleeding willingly, she filled the vial until the milky glass took a soft, pink tint. Only then did she allow the cut to heal.  
  
“Here.” Ignes held out the vial in her hand. Slowly, Raskreia held out her hand and Ignes dropped the vial in her palm. It felt warm against her skin. Another noble she might have thanked – but she would not thank _Ignes_ for mere obedience. "I am returning soon," she stated dryly. This has been long enough and the feeling of oddness just kept growing. Maybe it would be best to leave. 

 

“Hey... would you keep me some company before you go? Just for a bit.” Ignes had returned to the broken remains of the wall, sat there cross-legged and easy. “It's been a while I had some decent company.”  
Ignes' words made her frown. How dare she? Such insolence! Such awful, unbearable insolence! She should not be asking for anything – and still, Raskreia found herself approaching. Slowly, she sat down as well. From here, they had a view on the sun setting over the vast void of the sea before them. For a few minutes, silence settled between them.

“Thank you,” Ignes finally said softly. Raskreia needn't turn her head to look at her, she could hear the faint smile. It sounded worn. They both had changed much. When did she get so bitter, so disillusioned? Wasn't she once determined to be a Lord who brought pride to her ancestors? She hardly felt as though she did anything but damage control these days. When did Ignes get so tired?

Maybe this was all they needed right now. Silence. And so, neither of them spoke again. Here they sat with no witness but the setting sun. 


	5. Breaking fortresses and cutting ties

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> surprise, i am back, and this time with plot! Sorry for the long absence, I was both busy and slightly low on motivation but, here I am again! In light of the current canon, I felt like I gotta continue this. Hope there are still people around haha

 

Contrary to half-hearted hopes and ideas of pathetic fallacy, she did not find the facility in flames. A burnt-out ruin, or at the very least something that spoke of damage. Damn humans and their requirements for fire protection in each new building. The more Ignes thought about it, the more she wanted the 9 th  Elder's old research base to burn. Alas... If she wasn't so keen on having a roof over her head, she'd probably destroy it herself, brick by brick.  
How silly of her. Nothing could be gained from this – no poetic allegory for a new beginning. She could destroy this building and cut all ties with the union... but she would never be able to erase her past. These hands would remain blood-stained forever, into eternity. Eerie silence had settled over these halls haunted by the scent of burnt plastics and fabrics. You can burn everything and still their stench would linger in the air.  
Without particular hurry, Ignes headed for the communications room. With some luck, she hadn't missed the response of the Elders during her absence. As long as she still had some access to the union's network and resources... Did she _trust_ Raskreia? The Lord, surely, was not one to go back on her word... whatever word she's given... however, there was no way to tell what waited up ahead. Next time, she would not be unprepared.

The control room was dark, no alert lamps lit up during her absence. Ah... Then she really could not do anything but wait. With a heavy sigh, Ignes took seat in the large armchair that once served the 9 th  Elder during his meetings with the other Elders, or with their researchers. He'd allowed her to participate a couple of times.

Without clear sense of time, she sat in the chair that wasn't hers, staring at the ceiling emptily. In this limbo of uncertainty, anything was still possible. Whether she waited for hours or days, she could not tell, lost in a state of forlorn emptiness that allowed her to wait it all out. Eventually, the silence of this abandoned place was broken by a soft beeping as the main communications screen lit up. An incoming conference. Her hand shot forward, pressing down the button to accept the call. Finally.

However, contrary to her expectations, only a single person was present. 3 rd  Elder – and twelve dark screens. Dead and gone or otherwise impassable, clearly.  
“Ignes Kravei. We have consulted on your request to return to the Union thoroughly. We thank you for the work you have poured into our projects, and the progress we have made thanks to you.” His voice was even-toned, respectful. Good. Finally someone who acknowledged her work! After so many decades in the shadows of her father and other scientists - “However, this is where you and the Union part ways. The age of Nobles and Werewolves within our ranks are over.”

Taken by surprise, Ignes blinked a few times, quite at a loss for words. Didn't these fools need every help they could get?! As if the researchers left were enough to give them an edge over anything! Words of protest were stuck in her mind, did not make it past her slightly parted lips.  
“As a token of our goodwill, you are free to stay at this old facility. All communications with Union networks will be disconnected. Farewell, Miss Kravei.”

The screen went dark.

* * *

  _It's been a while I had some decent company_. Something about these words had spoken to her deeply in a way she could not understand entirely just yet. It was not only some inappropriate inkling of _pity_ that had stirred within her – there was something much deeper, much more meaningful than that. Company – there was something to it, wasn't there? You could be surrounded by countless people and still feel lonely.. just as you could be all by yourself and be perfectly content. Being with Ignes... just sitting next to her in blissful silence as the hours passed them by... had it done something to her? Now, Raskreia felt something that reminded her of _loneliness_. A sickening feeling that she might have brushed off as entirely natural if it weren't for these circumstances.

A dead woman did not need to bow to her – and she did not need to be a Lord to a dead woman, either. Something about it tasted like freedom, liberation from stifling decorum, appearances and duties. Somewhere between disgust and disappointment, Raskreia was not sure what to make of herself.

Whatever it was, it surely was a weed that must be nipped in the bud before it could take root and get a hold of her sense of judgement and duty. Before she was Raskreia, she was the Lord, after all. She could not possibly allow anything (or anyone) to even start clawing at the fortress she'd built around herself.

Remain hard and strong. 

* * *

 

 Did he think he did not notice? With eagle eyes, Frankenstein watched the noble. His gaze followed the hand that reached for the teacup, picking it up delicately and its way to his mouth – and he did not fail to pick up on the slight tremble of slender digits. No detail went unseen and yet it did not matter, did it? No matter what Frankenstein said, or did, or thought, or felt, none of that seemed to matter. Not as much as greater ideals: noblesse oblige, duty placed upon him ages ago, supervised by no one.

He, too, had principles. Principles he would give up anytime if this were what it took to save him.  
Was it selfish to wish Raizel would do the same for him? Let them all take care of their problems by themselves – the Lord, the werewolves, the humans. Let them be elsewhere, away in a quiet corner of this world untouched by the chaos of the modern world.  
To give Rai a few years of a normal life... or ages of quiet solitude together? Selfish as it might be... and even though he knew what Raizel chose for himself... Frankenstein doubted he could resist the temptation of passing another thousand years together. Far away, where no one would ever try to separate them again. No good ever came of other people.

Setting down the cup, Raizel looked up at last. For a solid minute, their eyes met – any other person would have looked away, by now. But Frankenstein knew that they could spend an eternity like this. And he would. By the stars above, if this is what it took to make him stay, he would stay here, motionless and sink into seas of red.

M-21 passed in the hall and, briefly, stopped at the doorway, glancing past the half-open door and found Raizel and Frankenstein, a good meter apart, locked in a half-absent stare. So much eye contact was uncomfortable to watch – and so he quickly continued on his way, deciding not to disturb them with whatever they were doing.

* * *

 

Everything was dark, now that the screens have gone black once more. All communication lines were closed off from the Union's side. She'd tried several times against better knowledge, seized by a strange dread. If they really cut her off... if they really wanted nothing to do with her anymore.... after all she had done for them?! Once more, a wave of anger washed over Ignes. They could not discard her like that! The days of nobles and werewolves gone- hah! Without them, most of their power was gone, too. Where would they be without her discoveries, with her decades of diligent research? Where would they be without powerful allies like Zarga and Urokai? Had her father ever offered bad council when they came to him looking for wisdom a human could not acquire in a pitiful lifetime?!

Curled up in a corner, she was all that was left of the old golden days of the Union when, without doubt, they ruled the world. The third Elder, the First Elder, Dr. Crombel – they were all that was left and they were not the ones who had carried the Union. These young humans merely reaped what she and her peers had sowed.

No use getting agitated, though – it was over. Without knowledge of where the other bases were located, she did not even have a physical place to go to, no one to complain to, no one who would hear her out.

She was alone.

All thoughts of anger and loneliness were interrupted by a sudden high-pitched beep followed by the sound of an incoming call on the communications device. Had they changed their mind? Hah! She would make them apologize for laying her off like that at first, as though she had not spent hours sulking curled up in a corner.

Taking a deep breath, Ignes forced herself to approach the console with slow steps. Her fingertips pressed down on the red button to accept the call.

“Hello Ignes.” A soft, melodic giggle. “I am so glad you are still there.”

She staggered back in surprise.


	6. Alive once more

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i am sorry for the long break, sorry for the missing frankenrai in this part but merry christmas and happy new year this is my present to myself haha  
> also friendly reminder I absolutely adore hearing what people think about this!

Something inside of her had mellowed out as though something had been carved from her chest. When she looked at Dr. Crombel she almost felt _warmth_. Not the burning hatred and disdain he deserved. She remembered his older dissertations and contributions to the conferences. Nothing he ever did was... _outstanding_. Alas, now... _A new world._.. He spoke and it felt like a song. There were many toys she'd once enjoyed playing with. None of them really had dug themselves into her heart – she no longer could tell whether it was genuine indifference at their loss or whether Crombel had taken away more than she was aware of until now.

When the 4th and 9th Elders were annihilated, everyone assumed that Ignes Kravei died as well. That news had brought her a mixture of joy and sadness at the same time. Once, the beautiful noble was someone worth looking up to. A brilliant genius, and at the same time, so exquisitely feminine, so graceful. Like a doll. She wondered what Ignes would look like with cherry lips and raven hair in bouncy curls. A cute lace dress. They could have been little Red Riding Hood and Snow White, going down Alice's Rabbit Hole. What could they have discovered, the power of their brilliant minds joined into a single, clear thought?

It was not too late. They could still... a glorious union that would end with a dagger planted deep in the back of a girl who should have known when to die.

“Hello Ignes.” She giggled softly, a melodic sound that rang pleasantly in her ears. “I am glad you are still there.” Though the Union had no longer any need for the failed scientist . . . Aris would always take in the broken dolls that could still serve.  
“Aris? You?! But I thought -”  
“... that I was dead? My, my, my. I thought the same of you. It seems dead girls come back to life these days.”  
“That ...” Ignes stepped forward from the shadows in the main communications room of the old base and into the light of the screen. Oh no! Her hair! Aris almost gasped and clasped her hands in front of her mouth. “... you... you ...” Are disfigured. Where was that beautiful dark lipstick she sometimes wore? Aris had grown used to gorgeous dark curls spilling over her back and shoulders, framing a beautiful face. Now, she just looked tired and worn out and her hair was a mess. A bad cut, too short for a beautiful woman. Even though she hated Ignes, she felt sorry for a once beautiful girl who lost so much of her doll-like noble beauty.

“My poor, dear Ignes! You must have been through so much!” Aris pulled her lips into a pout with a soft whine to underline her insincere sympathies. “And now the Union just _discards_ you as if you had done _nothing_ for them! But you deserve better, my dear. You honestly do.”  
“... How... how do you know all that? You aren't even an Elder! Are you still with the Union? Are you -”  
“I am with Dr. Crombel now.” Aris smiled  widely. “He saved me from the brink of death. When I encountered those Nobles... he saved me, he healed me, and he made me better. He is better than the Union. You should join us... while you still can.”  
Her words were met with silence. Ignes stared at the screen, dumbfounded, clearly overwhelmed with the amount of new information she'd just received.  
“Maybe the Union of the last two Elders of the Old Order does not have a place for you... but the New World of the one true Elder... will always have a place for true genius.”  
“Aris....? Is that... is that really you?”  
Something about these words made Aris blink in confusion. A part of her... knew... that she would never speak like that. And yet she just did. Were these not her own words? Had she not spoken them herself?  
“Many things have changed. Haven't they? You're alone. With me, you would not be alone anymore. Come. Help us make this new world a reality. A world where no one will have to hide their power anymore – the strongest rule. There is no more weak humans. Only perfection. The perfection Dr. Crombel made. Like me. Join us. You are like us. This is the right place for you. Not the Union. Not the pampa, all by yourself.”

Once, this prospect would have made her heart rejoice. A world reigned by the strong – a world of science and power. This was everything she ever dreamed of. Then why did she feel nothing? Even though Aris called her, hand outstretched in a most amiable offer – why did she hesitate? Why did her heart feel no joy at the idea of finally unleashing her full potential upon this doomed world? Finish what she started – Father had died for this. Did she not owe him to walk this path of destruction to the bitter end? And if she were to die – she would die in a blaze of fire, taking down as many as she could. Like the Leviathan of the Last Day, she would bleed out into the ocean and her wicked, tainted blood would poison it forever.

Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. She must come free, a storm unleashed, all her screaming rage turning into the violence she craved. _**Y e s**_. She wanted to scream. He was dead and nothing mattered anymore. She was alone – and if no one but Aris would have her? Then so be it. Something inside of Ignes stirred as she realized that it was now or never. To be Raskreia's chained pawn or Dr. Crombel's unhinged puppet? Without doubt, he played the merrier tune.

A deep breath. Yes. Yes. Yes.

 _Ignes Jelena Kravei. I, your Lord, summon you_.

For a few seconds, she held her breath. In this fated moment, the Lord called out to her and her voice drowned out Aris' chants of praise in honour of Crombel. The cool tone of the Lord grounded her more than Aris could ever hope to lift her spirits. No God intervened, but the Lord. The summons tugged at her very core – the blood she'd given willingly.  Aris might appeal to the beast inside, the monster that would see the world consumed by flame... but the Lord... no. _Raskreia_... touched her very core and ripples on the waters of her soul turned into mighty waves that flooded her. These words took root in the bottom of her soul, reached all the way to her heart where they found a bed to thrive and burst into full bloom. Her chest was full and all bloodlust was stifled by a wild desire to see _her_ once more.  
“Ignes? Are you still listening to me? Hello?”  
How beautiful she'd looked, a Goddess painted in silver by the full moon over the deep forests of the werewolves' territory. Never had Ignes seen a woman as majestic as her. Without paying much attention to Aris, she turned away from the screen and headed for the exit.  
“Ignes? Ignes! Where are you going?!”

If she were to suffer, if she were to be held up by strings like a doll, she'd rather be the doll of the last person in this world who meant something.

“Don't you **dare** walk away like that! You'll regret it! Ignes!!! Don't you dare! _**Ignes**_!”

* * *

 Maybe it was a mistake to call out to her again. The vial of blood had warmed up in the palm of her hand by the time Raskreia had made a choice. Even though they merely had sat on that broken wall for hours, it had felt... strangely good. Once or twice, Raskreia had felt the tips of Ignes' fingers tentatively grazing her own fingers as though she could not decide whether to dare touching the Lord's hand or not. A part of her wished she'd done it. Softly, she placed her hand against the cool stone of the crumbled wall. In that moment, she'd wished they could stay there forever. Hidden from the light of day and the eyes of her nobles, she could be something that might be herself - but was this who she wanted to be, really? Was this dull, greedy feeling of voracious emptiness really what she wanted to be? She could have devoured Ignes alive if it meant the void would be filled. Such selfish desire was supposed to be beneath her. And yet still, there she was, calling out for a traitor because in this world of judgement, duty and change, no one else seemed to quite do what this awful wretch did to her.

Each passing minute came with more and more doubt and regret and maybe that's what made her hate waiting. There she was, acting against her better judgement. Ignes was still a traitor, a scheming snake who had nothing in common with the noble girl of the past. That woman could not be trusted and despite everything, Raskreia wanted to see her. A Lord did not go back on her word and did not summon a clan leader in vain and thus, she must lie in the bed she made. Slowly, she sat on the wall and watched the moon's lonely course through the nightsky.

Ignes took a good while to arrive, though Raskreia considered it a decent time still - for nobles, there was no point in quantifying it. The traitor placed a hand over her chest and lowered her head respectfully and to her own surprise, Raskreia noticed an unprecedented reverence in her gesture. Something had changed and she could not tell what it was. Who could tell what Ignes had done since they had parted? Who could tell what sitting together for a night had done to her? Had it shattered something inside of her too? Did Ignes feel the same emptiness? She deserved it, after all she had done. However... when did the universe ever care about justice?

Slowly, Ignes stepped closer, anticipating an order, a question, anything. Finally, she stopped next to the wall, looking up to the Lord who still sat at its top with the same grace she would sit on a throne with. Maybe more beautiful women had walked this world but none of them could ever live up to the cold grace of the Lord. She could look at her for an eternity. Maybe she would be allowed to...

"What have you done to me, Ignes?" Raskreia did not look at her when asking this ominous question. Her gaze was fixated on a point on the far horizon and for a moment, Ignes was tempted to dumbly ask what she meant. What had she done to her? Had she done anything at all? She wished she had. Was this why she was here?  
"I don't know. But I know what you did to me."  
With a raised eyebrow, Raskreia finally turned her gaze on her. Thoughtfully, she seemed to consider whether to ask or not. Ignes made the choice for her. "I think... I think you might have **_saved_ ** me. No. No. Please. No... you did not just _spare_ me, if that's what you were about to say..." Awkwardly, she reached out and placed her fingertips against the back of Raskreia's hand. The Lord did not pull away. "You did more. So much more..." It flooded her lungs, made her heart beat faster, she felt as though she was being choked by her feelings. She might bend over and vomit, throw them all up and nothing but butterflies and bile would come out. That wild feeling that had torn her away from the abyss Aris meant to lure her into was coming awake again with a mighty roar that made her legs tremble. Raskreia rose and Ignes dropped to her knees with a hard, ungraceful thud.

For a few seconds, she heard nothing but the wild beat of her own heart. A hand ran through her hair. A gentle gesture that almost made her burst out into tears. When was the last time she'd felt the touch of a kind hand? She wanted to kiss each finger of that blessed hand, would kiss the boots of the woman stood before her if only it meant she'd know she'd get to feel this again. The hand wandered on to her cheek and, finally, gently grasped her by the chin to tilt her head up so she could look upon the Lord's face in the light of a lonely full moon.

"At least one of us is saved," Raskreia muttered, an errant thought that was voices without much care. Ignes followed the gentle pull and rose back to her feet, cheeks burning red with shame. How low had she fallen, to lose her composure like that? Why did she come undone with a single touch? Yet as she gazed into those eyes... these eyes that kept their true feelings a well-guarded secret... nothing mattered. Her shame was nothing in comparison to this wild, furiously lonely desire that raged in her chest. She wanted to grab her, pull her closer, small her against the wall, she wanted to kiss her, she wanted to caress her, and wanted to be caressed. A selfish, greedy thing. Her desire made her want to scream as if that would empty out her overflowing chest and calm the storm.

"I am the worst," Ignes whispered and she received a slow nod in return. Indeed, she was the worst - hateful, selfish, greedy, lonely, violent, envious and despite everything, still alive. Blood ran through her veins red and hot. Driven by a madness as old as time, she leaned in for a kiss. Hungrily, she placed her hands on the Lord's waist and yanked her closer until she felt her pressed against her body. If she were to be slain by a sword through her chest now, she'd die a happy woman. For a few moments, Raskreia did not move - she stood still, accepting Ignes' desperate kisses without returning or rejecting them. Abruptly, Ignes pulled away and took a couple of steps back, trembling, breathless, exhilarated.

_Thank you... for letting me feel alive one more time._


	7. Everything is not enough

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise, bet you thought you'd seen the last of me. I am not exactly happy with how the fic has been so far, but... given that suddenly people popped up telling me they liked this.. there you go. I will see whether i will find time for occasional updates, Re:Noblesse is still my main project but aYY

Ignes was a devil. Clever and pretty, volatile and selfish, greedy, hungry. Ignes was many things, and most of them were not qualities one would look for in a worthy clan leader. Yet with her kiss burning on Raskreia's lips, none of that mattered. For a few seconds, they were not the Lord and a traitor clan leader, but two lonely souls who sought for a moment of solace. Raskreia did not move when Ignes pulled away sharply, and she watched the other woman. Her chest heaved, her hands trembled, and it was exquisite. To see her like that, afraid and excited at the same time, stirred something deep inside of Raskreia, a part of her she was barely familiar with.   
Giving in to that primal, unwelcome part of herself, Raskreia closed the distance between them and pulled Ignes closer. One arm wrapped around her waist while the fingers of her other hand ran through Ignes' hair and kept her head locked in place. Though by any standards of sane measurement, this was nothing but insanity, in this insanity, Raskreia felt liberated in a way she had not known she'd craved.

When she broke the kiss without releasing Ignes from her grasp, she saw tears rolling down her reddened porcelain cheeks. Her own heart was beating too fast, too loud, too violent. Everything about her wanted to escape its own prison, it seemed – Raskreia wanted to renounce decorum and sanity alike. Before Ignes could lean it for another kiss, she pushed her away and took a step back. Raskreia's cheeks were flushed red. This... this was truly inappropriate, and wrong, and she wanted to feel it again.

“I apologize,” Ignes whispered, and Raskreia watched her pace, nervously, on edge, and she felt herself growing increasingly agitated too. She must say something, do something, something, anything. She wanted to tell Ignes to come to Lukedonia with her, but the lie had taken root already. Everyone presumed Ignes Kravei has been sentenced to death and executed by her, the Lord, back in the territory of the werewolves. How could she possibly reveal herself a liar in front of the Clan Leaders who trusted her? This would be an awful betrayal. How could they possibly understand her choice to spare a traitor when she herself could barely raise any good, sound arguments that did not sound like mere flimsy excuses?

“I am sorry,” Ignes repeated, and Raskreia did not resist when the little sea devil touched her hand. This was all so awfully, terribly messy and she wanted it to stop. Why was it so hard to do the right thing? She should... she should... Raskreia tensed when Ignes wrapped her arms around her from behind, and she wanted to pull away when she felt Ignes' head sinking down to rest between her shoulder blades. Soft sobs broke the uncomfortable silence as Ignes clung to her. She was crying, and Raskreia could not will herself to tell her to stop.  
“I am sorry,” Ignes whispered. “I am sorry, I am sorry, I am sorry, for everything – for leaving, for... for everything. I am sorry.”

Ignes was a little devil, yes, and lonely, so terribly lonely. Raskreia pulled Ignes' hands away to free herself from the tight grip. She turned around and placed a hand against the tear-stained cheek of the woman she had saved. Yes, she had saved Ignes, and maybe damned herself in the process – but if this was damnation, then hopefully they would go to the same hell.

Silence. There was no need for words, all they could possibly do was harm. Slowly, Raskreia leaned in, and this time, their kiss was soft. Sad. Gentle. They could stay there forever as long as neither of them would say a word. Here, away from everything, they could be... not themselves, not truly, not wholly. But different from the self they displayed for the whole world to see.

Raskreia wished this night would last forever – yet when the sun rose, they must force reality, at last. She was still the Lord, and Ignes was still a traitor. They had spent the night in each others' arms, sprawled out in the grass with no company but the stars above.

Idly, she ran her fingertips along Ignes' arm. “I wish this moment would never end,” she admitted. “I would freeze it in time, and forever, we float through space and time... just like this.”   
Ignes smiled and sat up as well. “... I would like that... I … I was dead. I feel alive with you.” She blushed and glanced down before reaching for Raskreia's hand to place a kiss upon her knuckles. “... thank you... for making me feel alive again. Thank you... for being here, with me.”   
Raskreia pulled her hand away uncomfortably. The sun rose and broke the spell of the night. They would return where they had to go, each, and they would continue the way they always had done.   
But the memories of this night of innocent caresses and longing kisses would haunt them until the next time they could meet.

Ignes smiled sadly and watched her Lord stand up.   
“... Ignes Kravei... Think of me, until we meet again.”  
“I will, my Lord.” She lowered her head and placed a hand over her chest. “Every waking moment.”

* * *

Love was pure and unselfish. Love was supposed to be something that makes you put the needs of the ones you love above your own – did Raizel love him at all, then? Was there any love between them? Has there ever been and was it gone now? Raizel would do anything for his friends. He would die for them – but would he live for him, his bonded? It was cynical, Frankenstein thought as he poured himself another glass of bourbon. Raizel would die for him, too, probably, when he wanted nothing more than his master alive and well, by his side. He was not usually one to smoke, but today was one of those kind of days.

Raizel made no sound when he entered the kitchen, and Frankenstein almost flinched when he noticed him standing there, like a ghost, crimson eyes watching him with a mixture of sadness and reproach. He hated being seen like this. Angry, frustrated, upset. There were so many things he wanted to say, and almost none of them were kind. He had given centuries of his life to await this reunion. He had despaired, he had prayed, he had lost hope and held on to the feeling that a part of the bond was still there, as though Raizel was still out there, somewhere, hidden from him. A cynical part of him wondered, bitterly, where Raizel would be now if he had given up his fight against the Dark Spear and other sinister notions that would have ended his painful quest.

“Frankenstein. You are angry,” Raizel sad and Frankenstein wanted to laugh and cry. He merely put out his cigarette instead. His master did not need to deal with the offensive, sharp smoke.   
“When am I ever not?”, he snorted and avoided Raizel's eyes. He wanted to tell him to go away, because he only wanted to show himself from his best side. One that would bring Raizel reassurance and comfort, not even more worries.   
“You are angry at me,” his master said and stepped closer. With a long sigh of frustration, Frankenstein got up from the kitchen chair. He should be ashamed of himself. Was this feeling familiar to Raizel? Had Urokai felt the same way, maybe, in his own twisted way? All that ever seemed to be enough...

“Do you love me?”, he asked, boldly, and looked up at Raizel. The answer does not matter, he told himself, because he would adore his master regardless. “Raizel. Do you love me?”, he repeated, nervously, and regretted his question more and more with each passing second.

Raizel took a deep breath.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cliff hanger? cliff hanger.


End file.
